Abner
by Inudaughter Returns
Summary: Abner the pet pig doesn't feel well. So Arnold takes him to the vet. Also, Phoebe rescues some chicks.


**Author's Notes: This one's for Phoebe, mostly. In the episode where Helga goes to a psychiatrist, she runs into Phoebe outside the office meeting. Phoebe was near the bus stop outside the office building holding what appears to be a cello case. I have used that tidbit here, as well as one other minor detail. In "Oscar Learns to Read" Oscar gets off at Sheffingston. We see one area in Sheffingston that is under construction. I took the liberty of putting a music academy for Phoebe to use there. Thanks.**

Abner the pig jangled his leash as he pulled forwards to sniff a patch of weeds wedging themselves at the edge of a sidewalk and a brick wall. The pig even lifted a leg as if to leave his scent there, but his ears perked up and the pig decided to press forwards instead on little scurrying feet.

"Calm down, Abner!" his owner's voice carried along the city street. Abner scurried up to Arnold's best friend Gerald and stood before the boy, wagging his curly tail with joy. Gerald scratched beneath the pet pig's chin, much to Abner's delight.

"Hey, Arnold," said Gerald with a calm and friendly smile as Abner did a roll-over trick to garner more attention. "Taking Abner for a walk?"

"Yeah. Abner needed to stretch his legs for a bit. Didn't you, buddy?" Arnold said before giving his favorite pet pig an affectionate pat between his triangular ears.

"Huh. Did you wanna take Abner to play frisbee in the park?" asked Gerald.

"I'd love to," Arnold told his best friend.

"Great!" said Gerald as they walked methodically back to Arnold's front door. "Arnold, you wait here," spoke Gerald. "I'll go get the frisbee from your room." Arnold waited outside on his stoop while Gerald went into the house. Soon, Gerald returned with a blue frisbee in hand. Abner wagged his springy tail, squealed for joy, and did a tiny hop of joy into the air.

"Wow," Gerald laughed slightly. He wagged the frisby just overhead of Abner's nose, baiting the pig with it. Abner admired the frisby by circling his head. He waited patiently for it. "Abner really is in a frisky mood today," Gerald observed.

"Yeah, he's feeling peppy," Arnold said. The boy dropped to one knee to thoroughly rub Abner's front chest. Arnold admired his pet pig with pride. "Well, let's frisbee. The exercise will be good for all of us."

"Yeah," Gerald observed. It was a good day. The pleasures and innocence of youth were still theirs.

But a grim lesson in life awaited Arnold. Arnold and Abner arrived home safely. Arnold removed Abner's leash and collar let the pet loose in the house. Upon finding himself free of restraint, Abner ran squealing into the living room. Angry shouts could be heard from Arnold's Grandpa, Ernie, and Mr. Hyuhn. It seemed the pig had disturbed their sports game, for he came out wearing a sports pennant and sour cream dip streaked down his back. Arnold took a kitchen towel and wiped the sour cream off Abner's back. Then he peered into the boarding house's living room to check on the people he lived with. Grandpa, Ernie, and Mr. Huynh. were all watching a sports game. A bowl of chips lay overturned on the carpet. Arnold picked up the bowl and scooped a few spoiled chips off the carpet.

"Hi, guys," Arnold said calmly. "I'm back."

"Yeah. I can tell that Arnold," Grandpa Phil grumbled. Perhaps the man was a little upset about Abner's disruption of his snacks. "Well, don't just stand there Arnold! Sit down and watch the game with us!"

"Well, I suppose I could. For a few minutes anyway," Arnold answered politely before setting himself down to watch.

But Abner rooted around the house. He pressed his pink nose against a cabinet and pushed open the cabinet's door. Inside was a small garbage can which the pig hastily tipped over. Garbage spewed out all over the kitchen floor and Abner stuck his nose into the mess. A greedy Abner swallowed down a shoe and a spring before he gulped down a wind-up alarm clock. With a belch, Abner began to tick. The pig shuddered for a few moments before the alarm clock went silent again. Then Arnold poke his head around the corner.

"Abner!" Arnold said with protest. "Bad Abner! You got into the trash again!" Arnold glared down at the pig but Abner only wagged his little curly tail. Arnold sighed. Then, appropriately alarmingly, there was a sudden but brief ringing from Abner's belly. Arnold stared in astonishment at his pet.

"Uh, Abner are you alright?" Arnold said with real concern growing. Abner's face grew green, then pink, then white. The once lively pig lay down on the kitchen floor with a slump. Arnold knelt and lifted Abner's stricken face to look at it closely.

"Abner, you look really sick!" said Arnold with horror. "I'd better call the vet!" Arnold jogged to the phone to dial a number. Arnold anxiously listened to the ringtone.

After a few brief words of scheduling, Arnold carried Abner in his arms into a vet's office. Arnold set the pig down on the weighing scale next to the receptionist. Abner weakly waved his little pink tail at his favorite boy.

"Name?" the receptionist asked.

"Arnold," spoke up Arnold as he twiddled a leash in his hands in worry. "I'm here with Abner, my pig. So can you heal him?" Arnold gave Abner a long, loving stroke down the spine of his back. The pet and the boy locked eyes lovingly. Then Abner's head sunk low again. The pig was really feeling ill because of all the stuff the had swallowed. The receptionist whispered to someone in the office. Someone else whispered back to her.

"Can you leave your pet with us for observation? We promise to give you a call back as soon as we can get to the bottom of this. We'll need you to fill out some forms!" the woman said before thrusting a massive stack of paperwork in Arnold's direction.

"Sure," the boy breathed. But his face was contorted with worry. Then Arnold walked out the front door to the vet's office. The automatic door chimed and slid shut behind him. Arnold paused on the sidewalk to give a long, uncertain, backwards stare over his shoulder.

"Well, how'd it go, Arnold?" Phil asked from where he stood beside the green Packard.

"They said they'd keep him for observation," Arnold said. The boy's eyes were mournful. Would he ever see his beloved pet again?

"Ah, I'm sure it will all work out!" Grandpa Phil said with more certainty than he actually felt.

"I sure hope so, Grandpa. I sure hope so!" Arnold said with grief.

Elsewhere in Hillwood, Phoebe got off the subway at Sheffingston. It was an unusual stop, far away from the downtown of Hillwood. But Phoebe had the music case of a good-sized string instrument in hand- a small cello perhaps. Near the station, a small music academy had recently opened. The year before, this very place had been fenced off by chain-link fencing. Phoebe passed hastily erected statuary, boxwood shrubbery, and a small water fountain to mount the steps of a music school. The twin, wide, arched doors of the school lay open. Phoebe walked forwards, head down, to find herself staring down at a pair of perfect, glossy, black-heeled shoes. The owner of the shoes was a woman every bit as beautiful as Camille but much more modestly dressed.

"Welcome, Phoebe! Are you here for your lesson?" The woman smiled from beneath a broad banner which read, "Arts for Hillwood".

"As a matter of fact I am!" Phoebe smiled, She set down the heavy music case which had weighed her down so much on her weary trudge here.

Phoebe loved her extra music lessons. She sat by the many windows of the conservatory and used a stringed bow to play for many minutes. The lovely woman stopped Phoebe's playthrough a few times to point out details on the music sheet. But the afternoon was filled with beautiful music for Phoebe.

At long last, it was time for Phoebe to go home. She shook her instructor's hand goodbye and began her trek home with a smile on her face. As she carried her heavy case, Phoebe walked under a small pedestrian overpass. She spotted a small, slender gray bird on the ground in front of an angry cat.

"Oh, my!" Phoebe flustered. She shook her cello case at the cat. "Shoo cat, shoo!" with a hiss, the cat ran away leaving the bird behind. Fearful, Phoebe dropped her music case and scooted forward to squat on her toes as near to the bird as she dared. Phoebe could swear she saw the bird breathing.

"Oh!" Phoebe gasped. "It's alive! Here, I'm sorry bird, but you're going in this box!" Phoebe said scooping it up with a box that had been stacked next to an over full, city maintained rubbish can. Then Phoebe heard a sound. It was a collection of chirps. Her head turned and Phoebe saw that there, under the overpass, in a chip in the wall, was a little nest with chicks in it.

"Oh!" Phoebe flustered. "I'd better take these, too! Wait a minute! Ooo, ooh! I don't have enough hands!" Phoebe flustered as she stood on sidewalk between the box full of birds and the music case. There was only one thing to do. Phoebe pulled out her cellphone and swiftly dialed Helga's number.

Phoebe carried the box in her arms with more importance than her precious instrument. Phoebe was rapid to get off the bus at a nature center somewhere in Hillwood. But because she could not abandon her cello, she had managed to bring even her selfish best friend in tow. Helga trotted along behind Phoebe, her music case in hand. On Helga's face was a compassion one rarely saw. The cause of it was Phoebe. The girl's face was stricken with so much fear and anxiety it was hard for even Helga to watch.

"Can you help them?" Phoebe begged the woman at the nature center counter. Silently, the woman carried the box into the back. An elderly man with glasses came out of the back to trade places with her at the counter.

"Wait here," the man directed Phoebe. "Would you like some water? Some lemon drops perhaps?"

"No, sir," Phoebe said as she sat down on chair to wait. Lugging the heavy cello case, Helga chose a chair right next to Phoebe's.

"It will be okay, Phoebe! Really it will!" Helga encouraged her friend. "And even if it croaks, well it WAS just a bird. It's not like it was a human or anything." But Phoebe stood up on her feet with rage like a whiplash.

"It's not just a dumb bird!" Phoebe belted out before breaking into tears. "It's not! It's not!"

"Okay, okay. Easy Phoebes. No need to get all bent out of shape with it," Helga said before picking up one of the waiting room magazines. She flipped the cover back and began to read. Phoebe, too, settled down to wait. An answer came at last.

"We weren't able to save the bird," the man informed Phoebe as kindly as he could. "But we put the chicks in an incubator and we are going to raise them here at the nature center. Would you like to come back again sometime to see them?" the man said while handing Phoebe a business card.

"Yes, I would," Phoebe answered him. Phoebe teared up as she held the business card close to her heart. It was a sentimental moment. But Helga wasn't feeling sentimental. Instead she was holding the door the exit half-open with the expectation for Phoebe to catch up to her.

Back on Vine Street, Arnold waited anxiously near his telephone. He might have waited downstairs, but instead he had opted out this time, to wait on the foldaway couch in his room. Toys and cards littered the rug. Arnold's game of solitaire was interrupted by the electronic ring of his phone. Arnold leapt up and ripped the phone receiver off its cradle to place it next to his ear. Then, he forced himself to speak calmly.

"Hello? Arnold speaking," said the boy. A tiny voice spoke into his ear.

"Hello? Are you the owner of the pig?" the receptionist's voice asked.

"Yes, I am. Do you have any word on Abner? How's he doing?" Arnold said. He rocked himself back and forth from the seat of his couch in his anxiety. Then Arnold leapt up to pace, the phone pressed firmly to his ear as he raked his hand through his bangs.

"Well, based on our observations your animal has a blockage of some kind. We had the veterinarian do an examination of your pig. It's been determined that we have to do a surgery to save your pig." Another voice in the background laughed from somewhere near the person on the phone.

"You mean that pig who's all out of time?!" someone chortled.

"Shh, shh!" the receptionist speaking with Arnold scolded his co-worker. She put on her best big-sister voice.

"All we need is for your approval. We'll do our very best to restore your pig to health," the woman said with professionalism. But her co-worker wasn't so professional.

"Or we'll have pork-cutlets!" the other snickered.

"Shhh-sshh-shhh! The other hissed before she hung up the phone, leaving Arnold with the dialtone. Arnold went downstairs, his hand on the banner all the way down.

"Grandpa?" Arnold said. His Grandpa Phil had been using a screwdriver to repair something in the kitchen. But he dropped the tool to pay attention to Arnold.

"Oooh, you look like you've been through the wringer, Arnold! Pull up chair! Do you wanna tell me what happened?" Both of the men of the family sat.

"Well," Arnold began although he didn't want to say the words out loud. "I got word from the vet. They're going to have to do surgery and I... well, Gramps it sounds like Abner might not make it!" Arnold said before planting his face in his palms. That gesture, somehow, sometimes makes the pain feel more endurable. Phil stepped round the table to put a hand on Arnold's shoulder.

"Aw, Arnold! I know how you must feel!" Phil said before sitting down. "And I also know there's nothing I can say to cheer you up. Sometimes all a man can do is feel the pain and face it! But it's not over till the fat lady sings, Arnold. Who knows? Our favorite bacon might pull through yet! And I'll have to wait another ten years to get a scottish terrier."

"If you say so, Grandpa," Arnold said. He forced a smile onto his sorrowful face. But one fist still lay on the surface of the counter, curled in the anguish of a world that can feel unfair at any time.

The sun went down and came up again. Phoebe read the business card the man at the nature center had given her for the millionth time. Then she boarded a bus. Then she hopped on the subway. Then she got off at a place in Hillwood far away. Phoebe had returned to the nature center again. The red-haired receptionist was just unlocking the front door when Phoebe arrived.

"Oh, come in!" she said with some surprise. "Stay in the waiting room, alright?" she asked. Phoebe nodded, then took her chair. As she waited, hands knotted together and dainty ankles crossed, the door to the backroom opened again.

"Would you like to come over here to the viewing counter?" the woman offered with a soft, kindly smile. "I'm going to feed the baby birds you brought in."

"Oooh!" Phoebe wondered. The lady had moved a thick screen so that now, Phoebe could see through an expanse of clear, acrylic glass. Phoebe pressed her nose against the glass. Inside, she could see something that looked like an aquarium, only it contained no fish. Instead, there was a wool hat with tiny baby birds inside of it.

"Watch!" the woman said from behind the glass. She took a pair of tweezers and held a small grub within the hatchlings' reach. One of them snatched the insect and ate it. The woman from the nature center used the tweezers to take a second insect from the jar and offered it to the nestlings. This insect, and many others, were snatched up, until the baby birds were full.

"They're resting now!" the woman came out wearing a labcoat. She looked down at Phoebe. "It will be a few weeks yet before they are full grown. But you are welcome to come here anytime to see them!"

"I will!" spout Phoebe with joy. "I'll come here a lot!" The woman chuckled her soft chuckle.

"Do you want to know what kind of bird they are?" she asked with humor.

"Hm. I never thought to ask!" wondered Phoebe. "What are they?"

"The name of this bird is Phoebe. So, Phoebes for Phoebe!" the woman said. Her eyes twinkled.

"Phoebes for Phoebe?! Me?!" Phoebe gasped. With one hand stretched against her breastbone, she considered it. "Wow!" Phoebe smiled at last. The phrase was very pleasing. She took one last peek through the glass.

"Thank you very much for taking care of them!" Phoebe smiled.

"Yes. I'll keep you posted on how they are doing," the woman in the lab-coat winked. "But I expect they will be ready to fly not long from now."

"Teehee!" Phoebe giggled. "I'm happy for them!" Even if she was a little sad about the mother bird dying, she was overjoyed that she had helped the chicks.

At Arnold's house, everyone was eating breakfast when the phone rung. Half-asleep perhaps, Arnold did not look up from his bacon and eggs with an unhappy frown to answer the call. Instead, he focused on making squishy noises with the yolk of his egg as he stirred it around on his plate to leave a massive goo of yellow. Instead, his Grandma answered the call.

"Oh, Arnold?" his Grandmother said in one of her saner moments. "Someone is on the phone for you. Were you buying a pig?" Arnold shot up on his feet and jogged to the phone in the hall.

"Yes, hello?" Arnold said into the mouthpiece. A new voice garbled into his ear.

"Yes? Is this the owner of that pig?"

"Yes?" Arnold asked nervously. He held his breath.

"He's ready to be taken home now," the man on the phone line said. "Can you pick him of this afternoon?"

"So Abner is okay?!" Arnold asked with so much surprise his hair stuck up straight-on-end.

"Yes, he's recovering fine. But he needs to wear of collar cone for a few weeks," the man on the phone explained. "And the doctor wishes to have a word with you about your pig's… eating habits."

"I'll be there at twelve!" Arnold vowed with all seriousness. Then, leaving the phone dangling off the hook, he ran into the dining room.

"Grandpa, Grandpa! Abner's okay!" Arnold cheered. Phil studied his gleeful face.

"That's wonderful, Arnold!" Grandpa cheered. "We'll go pick up the hairless runt in a little bit. But first I need to chew proof the ol' sock drawer. Been meaning to do that for years." Grandpa Phil got up to leave the room.

Soon, Arnold and Phil arrived together at the vet's. Grandpa Phil accepted a piece of paper from the friendly receptionist, then grumbled as he looked down at it. "Erm, lousy pig. Should have made 'im inta pineapple n' ham pizza!" Grandpa Phil grumbled out so swiftly under his breath that Arnold did not notice. But then one the assistants came out from the back with Abner on his leash. Arnold lunged forward to give his favorite pet pig a hug. Abner squealed in delight. He wagged his little pink tail happily, even if he was wearing the plastic cone-of-shame.

"Abner!" Arnold cried out hugging Abner tight. "I'm so glad you're better!" The vet came out from the back holding an alarm clock. Hopefully, Arnold and his family would be smart enough to put a lock on the cupboard or put the trash out of Abner's reach from now on.

But the happiest ending of all was reserved for Phoebe. Some weeks later, Phoebe descended from the bus at the nature center. The red-haired woman in the lab coat stood outside the door with a small pet carrier in hand. She and Phoebe greeted one another in the sunny streets, then, together they walked to a park full of trees. Then, while Phoebe watched, she opened the pet carrier. A explosion of wings flew free. Five gray birds took the sky to vanish into the trees of the park.

"Well, that's it!" said the nature center worker. "They're free now and old enough to take of themselves. We can only hope they will have happy lives."

"Yeah!" Phoebe acknowledged. The woman grinned.

"I hope all of those other Phoebe's have a beautiful spirit like you!" she praised the child. "It was a wonderful thing you did for them."

"Oh! You're welcome!" Phoebe looked bashful. But on a tree branch, a small, gray bird had paused to study her before it took flight and left loose feather on the wind. The end.


End file.
